


Love Is More Thicker Than Forget

by darktea_27



Series: Two Songs of Despair and Two Songs To Mend It Back [2]
Category: Founder of Diabolism, The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, inquiry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 21:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18881419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darktea_27/pseuds/darktea_27
Summary: Thirteen years are long time to wait Wei Wuxian come back from the dead, but not long enough for Lan Wangji forgetting him.





	Love Is More Thicker Than Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyaa. This title comes from E.E. Cummings' poem. English is not my first language. This is unbeated bcs uh someone has social constipation that don't know how to approach other XD Constructive critic is appreciated. Enjoy!

i. It is most mad and moonly/and less it shall unbe

Wei Ying was dead and he robbed all the colors in the world but barren land of Burial Mounds with its ashen soil and grey smokes twirling into the sky as the incense for the death.

How forgetful he was for the mortality always bound to end, one way or another. His mother was the prove of that. His father, no matter how absence he was from Lan Wangji's life, gone as suddenly as well. Death always as close as your own shadow; cloaked you like a second skin.

Hours of flying with Bichen from Gusu to Yiling, with the wind splashed against his skin, like the caresses of lover, but the only love in the world was gone, leaving Lan Zhan alone in the world of people whose souls weren't Wei Ying.

The wounds on his back were weeping red stained his guqin's cloth, whenever he moved around it hurted terribly. But nothing could compare to the hurt, the ache, the emptiness he felt when he noticed the expand of Burial Mounds once he landed. Acres of ashen land with smokes still permeated in the air, acres that lacked of its master, its host and residents, lacked of Wei Ying -- his boisterous laughter, crinkle grey eyes, and black hair that fell down to his waist like a river.

Wei Ying was gone and Lan Zhan missed him horribly, missed to save him, missed to see him for the last time, missed him a lot he wanted to go knocking the death door and just beseeched to let him in, to let him chasing that one person, the only person that mattered the most. From the foot of the hill to the Demon Slaughter Cave at the top, from the south to the north, under the burrow to above of the land, there was nothing left. 

His chest spasmed and pulsed vehemently. He felt hollow inside out. Qi deviation sounded more appealing than the life of nothingness where Wei Ying absence from it. But, but A-Yuan was there, snucked soundly in the delves of tree, deep in the back of Burial Mounds, feverish and hungry while hugging the red tassel he would know anywhere, whimpering slowly like kitten 'Xian Gege come back'. And it broke him down instantly, right there, in front of the tree which enveloped A-Yuan, that Wei Ying kept A-Yuan safe but himself. Why nobody saw him in the way he saw Wei Ying through? A selfless soul with laughter and eyes brighter than the sun, it felt Lan Zhan always ate the sun whenever he saw him laughing, smiling or teasing him.

If it wasn't him then who would take care A-Yuan? Strangers who knew the child as part of Wen clan either enslaving him or killed him, it shuddered him to think as such. The childhood of Wei Ying he ever heard from Jiang family, alone on the street before Jiang Fengmian took him to Lotus Pier, fend himself with dogs around to snatch his food. Lan Zhan refused to give the same fate to A-Yuan, the only remnant of Wei Ying's life, the reminiscent. The same grey eyes that if he didn't know better he would believe Wei Ying's callous remark about A-Yuan was his own flesh and blood.

Wei Ying was dead, brought away all the bright and merry things with him along Lan Wangji's heart on his hands, and Lan Wangji would go on living to keep the only thing Wei Ying sacrificed for, A-Yuan.

'Those with milk is Mother, those with gold is Father—how can this be?'

ii. than all the sea which only/is deeper than the sea

Wei Ying was dead and Lan Zhan never fell so deep he didn't know where his beginning or the end. 

There was fall between Wei Ying's stormy eyes and enchanting laughter, and Lan Zhan let himself be pulled into his gravity, without gap in between. Undeniable. Unretractable. 

In this world where the death of Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, was rejoiced, Lan Zhan suffered alone. Washed by misery and grief that only him felt. When he was out of his room once in a while, he still awared of the looks given to him by the elders, the disappointment his uncle permeated whenever they met, and the sad smile his brother always had around him. 

They all asked how he could love unruly discipline with knack of breaking rules like its merry competition for him to do so? But how could he not for he was the sun of the suns and the root of the roots of the tree which grew itself deep down inside his core, cultivated itself into a being that was everything but nothing, that was what made him Lan Zhan but also more than Lan Zhan himself.

They all asked how he could defend a detested cultivator who ventured in demonic cultivation, raised the undead as the army, and killed their own family? But how could he not for the undead he raised to fight the enemy who destructed his sect and would have do the same to the remained three sects if it were not for him. For the undead was a friend he cherished. For the remnant of the abominable sect was child, elders, and those who couldn't fight he sheltered under his protection while burdening all of those accusation without defending himself. For the family who were gone before him but not because of him yet it was for him. 

It was more than the Emperor's Smile wine jugs he put hidden under the Jingshi's floorboards, he tried once to taste what he tasted, to love what he loved, and branded himself with Wen's iron brand on his chest so he knew what his skin felt - he woke up and found nothing but a greater grief.

It was more than the pictures Wei Wuxian ever drew for him and with him in Library Pavillion, the immaculate drawing with peony on top of his crown. The time when Wei Ying was still alive, alive with his vibrant attitude and slaphappy grin that said nothing's wrong in the world. The time when he still called him by his birth name and all those titles he never cared in his tantalizing voice to get raise of his response. 'Wangji-xiong. Lan Wangji. Lan Er Gege. Lan Zhan! Look at me! Why don't you look at me!'. And how did he hope he was looking at him. 

It was more than the basket of loquats he ever offered him but Lan Wangji never dared to take -- a friendship readily offered without reservation, without asking something in return, and yet he was never ready for it, never dare to return until Wei Ying came back with sinister smirk plastered on his face, the undead came in his beck and call, and cold skin that no matter how much warmth he poured it would slip through the crack of his embrace. 

World could leave him blind and deaf, but it was only Wei Ying all he could sense.

iii. Love is less always than to win/less never than alive

Wei Ying was dead, freer than before without all the judgments shackled his body to the unfair world, and Lan Zhan never been felt so caged in the realm where he couldn't follow Wei Ying.

With his YunmengJiang's silver bell and one jug of Emperor's Smile wine, Lan Wangji strummed the song of asking soul. Everyday without slacking in searching an answer. Wherever he was he would follow, whatever he asked he would give, but it always left unanswered. 

A-Yuan once asked what he was doing, alone in the back of Cloud Recesses Mountain, surrounded by rabbits given by Wei Ying. There was a clamp on his throat and vice grip on his chest that would make him weep, collapse, and prefer sleeping under the earth, but he refused since he found A-Yuan feverish body now forgetting why he was there snucked on the tree, then answered 'asking a soul' - the most awaited soul to come home.

There was a time when Lan Xichen, his brother, stared at him with that sad eyes and asked 'do you regret it, Wangji?' like maybe perhaps there was a version of Lan Wangji that would wake from the Yiling Patriarch's spell. Without missing a beat, without hesitation, he answered 'No'. Because 'No' was the truth and the only truth. Because 'No' was the only a reminder why he fought the elders and his uncle tooth and nail to let A-Yuan live in his sect as his own offspring, to bear a Lan in his name with its deserving cloud forehead ribbon. Because 'No' meant losing, but not really losing, he just didn't really care because he might as well had love him entirely with all of his flaws and stereotypes, might as well had thirty-three lashes on his back, and he didn't mind. 

His memory was to be perpetually alive and to always be there in everywhere he went, whenever the chaos was, too seek a returning soul or an asnwer. He was a breath that surrounded him in Cloud Recesses -- from a wall that he sneaked on the first night, from Library Pavillion he was taking a detention under Lan Wangji's supervision, from the greenery he walked with laughter in his steps, from the warren of rabbits he ever gave in the back of Cloud Recesses. He was a shadow following Lan Wangji from Lanling to Yunmeng, from Qinshe to Qinghe. 

He scattered the inquiries as far as the wind went, over the mountains or across the seas, for Wei Ying's soul to hear, to know that he wasn't alone, to know that he was remembered and longed for, but he never answered. Who would remember this unrequited love but himself? 

Wei Ying was gone and there was nothing he could bury, to remember, to pay respect for, to long for. To not be allowed to love who you love and to not be allowed to grief the loss of your love interest were truly cruel.

'So much yearning within the strings, spoken to him'

iv. It is most sane and sunly/and more it cannot die

In the mark of thirteen seasonal cycles changed, Lan Yuan now was given a courtesy name Lan Sizhui - to recollect and long for, a prayer within a name bestowed to the child who was growing as his child and always be a child of Wei Ying too. He grew into a courteous man, the new pride of Lan Qiren, an excellent example of discipline, and Lan Zhan thought that Wei Ying would be proud, would ruffle the kid's hair, and give maddening smile that put a shame on the sun. Lan Zhan could see Wei Ying and himself in Lan Sizhui, and it soothed the aching soul within him. To know that there was someone he lived for while waiting the reunion between him and Wei Ying. 

Although you were no longer in this world Wei Ying, your presence would always be within me wherever I go. Loving him was as easy as breathing, as the inevitable pull of the waves to the shore, dragged him thoroughly in the devotion of his spirit and remembrance.

With guqin strapped on his shoulder, Bichen secured in his waist, he let his legs roaming in this world with his undying love, the longing that never receded but remained strong no matter how much time passed and unblemished like the beginning of its seed taken root in his heart. People called him selfless, the light bearer that aided people where the chaos was, but he was just a human, with a heart with wants, needs and love so consuming he wondered if his blood still recognized himself as its vessel or rather the dead man walking on his veins like its own home. Because the dead man's soul was so vibrant, so radiant, it would attract many things and Lan Zhan knew that trouble came to Wei Ying like magnet.

To live in the world without the person he loved the most but with the love still harbored in him, he would cherished and stood up for what his love interest's stood up for when he was still alive. Aid them who needed to be helped, sheltered them who were homeless -- be brave, be gentleman, be righteous, like a boy who once ran amok between the enemies just to shoved himself to the hot iron brand in front of the girl who supposed to get her eye burnt. 

In a song born in ill-fated cave, he created a remembrance of two; in a song born of grievance, he sailed a lighthouse for a soul to come home. With this one hand stretched out to far away, yet that person never reached back, where else did he need to go? Who else did he find home but a man with a wavy hair down to his waist, smirk on his face while blowing Chenqing to the undead, and mirth eyes calling 'aren't we close Lan Zhan?'. 

Yes, Wei Ying, we were so close.

'There are cries asking the soul, when it will return home?'

v. Love is more thicker than forget/more thinner than recall

Through the wilted tree to the bloom of flower's buds, through the heat of summer to the frost of snow, his heart remains unchanged.

There was no reason for Lan Wangji to forget Wei Wuxian for wherever he went he saw Wei Wuxian everywhere, in his eyes, in his heart, in his wake and asleep, that person would always stay with him until he was no more and the world perished with him.

In Wei Ying's bravery he found strength, in his justice he found reason, and in his smile he found love that he couldn't fall out no matter how days change to months or years -- maybe until his bones turn to dust, maybe until the ocean dries.

Patience would be rewarded, as soon as it was bestowed or as long as the sky changed into forever black, good things come to those who await. And did Lan Zhan really wait.

Sky ablazed with flame and roared of corpses, he flew to the top of Dafan Mountain. Lan Sizhui was there with Lan Jingyi. His pulses beat madly although his face betrayed none. He would not late again. He refused so. 

Then, a flute shrilled a melody. 

He would know that song everywhere. He would.

There was a man holding flute, he saw his slender back and high bun ponytail. His style of robe with red lines didn't change at all. 

And, there Wen Ning, the Ghost General who was summoned by this man to killed the demonic statue which tried to kill one discipline out there. 

There was no mistake once he held the man on his wrist. There was no mistake of that soul mirroring in the same grey eyes he always adored.

Wei Ying had dead for thirteen years but now he came back. He could just shrugged away, lived his second life somewhere else where cultivation world -- which doomed his first life, was not existing. He could. But Wei Ying was here, coming back with a song he ever hummed for him. He came back. He came back. He came back.

(And it will return home)

**Author's Note:**

> Love is more thicker than forget  
> more thinner than recall  
> more seldom than a wave is wet  
> more frequent than to fail
> 
> \--- E.E. Cummings
> 
> Kudos and comments are food to my heart <3


End file.
